Help...?

Was the period that I largely consider the best time of my life merely fictional? Was I living a lie, revelling in false hopes and a naive sense of trust in fate and the future? More and more it's beginning to look that way. Maybe the disonnance between what I feel and what thought I would feel stems not from the lack of any real ability of "dreams" to come true, but rather my lack of effort in pursuing those dreams. I try to find the words, but I can't. Is this my fault? Tonight, apparently, it is.